


hold still

by flowersinxeirhair



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gender Exploration, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersinxeirhair/pseuds/flowersinxeirhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you want to try some on?”<br/>Grantaire arched a brow. “What, a dress?”<br/>“I meant lipstick, dummy,” Parnasse replied with his head in the cupboard as he rummaged for the makeup in question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold still

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know I just really love childhood friends Parnasse and Taire and lbr Parnasse's makeup is flawless and I just wanted tiny montaire children exploring gender and what
> 
> really loosely inspired by that one scene in the billy elliot movie bc i am in fact, trash

“Whose dress even is that?”

“Ponine’s. Duh.”

"I didn’t even know Ponine had dresses.”

“They’re for when her parents--” Parnasse cut himself off, looking down at his feet, in heels that were about seven sizes too big for him. “You know,” he finished limply.

Grantaire averted his gaze to his own feet. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

Uncomfortable silence fell, until Parnasse cleared his throat. “Do you want to try some on?”

Grantaire arched a brow. “What, a dress?”

Montparnasse rolled his eyes and steered Grantaire out the door. “No, you said you don’t want to wear anything that’s not green, and Ponine doesn’t have any green ones.”

He led his friend into the bathroom and kicked off the heels so that he could stand on the counter and open up the cupboard. Grantaire leaned against the radiator that hadn’t worked as long as he’d known Ponine to live in this house to watch Parnasse with an amused smile.

“I meant lipstick, dummy,” Parnasse replied with his head in the cupboard as he rummaged for the makeup in question.

Grantaire made a vague noise to the contrary. “It won’t look any good on me,” he protested.

Parnasse hopped down from the counter with a huff, “Don’t be stupid.” He gestured for Grantaire to go sit on the counter, and with no more than a pout in protest, Grantaire complied.

“How can you know it won’t suit you,” Parnasse mumbled, his focus on opening the tube, “unless you try it?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Dunno,” he mumbled. "Just won't, will it?" 

"You're acting proper weird about this," Parnasse rolled his eyes as he moved to stand between Grantaire’s legs and lifted his chin with one hand. Grantaire opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by the unfamiliar sensation of lipstick plying at his lips. He sat stock still, watching Parnasse’s face; messy with makeup applied with shaky hands and studiously focused as he applied the lipstick.

“Do this now,” Parnasse instructed, looking back up to Grantaire’s eyes, pressing his lips together and smacking them demonstratively.

Grantaire did as told, and Parnasse wiped at a smear on his chin with a thumb before pulling back. “There,” he smiled.

“So,” R asked, raising his brows, “What’s it look it like?”

Montparnasse blinked himself out of the stare and shrugged a little too casually, moving to grab a compact mirror from the counter. He clicked it open and handed it to Taire. “Good,” he murmured. “It’s good.”

Grantaire had to hold the mirror at arm’s length to fit his whole face in at once, and blinked.

He looked different.

His whole face looked different.

Without really thinking, he swept a finger over his lower lip, and glanced down at the red smear on his fingertip.

“What d’you think?” Parnasse asked after a minute.

Carefully, he set down the expensive-looking mirror and slid off the counter. Quickly, he wrapped his arms tight around Parnasse’s shoulders, and held him tight.

“You’re my best friend,” Taire mumbled, “It’s really close, but you are. Don’t tell Ponine.”

Mont suddenly felt a stone rise in his throat. Like he was about to cry or something, and he curled his arms about Grantaire’s waist, tucking his chin over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, you’re mine too.”


End file.
